The New Age
by LotrHpHoo
Summary: A back to front story: A line of figures stood silhouetted against the red sky, as they watched the Drip Drip Drip of blood.


The New Age

10\. A line of figures stood silhouetted against the red sky, as they watched the

Drip

Drip

Drip

Of blood.

_

9\. America's hand shook as it hovered over the button. He was one press away. The darkened room wavered and almost buckled under the force of the attacks, but still seemed to hold strong against the violent onslaught.

He wondered for how much longer.

No.

He knew how much longer; his finger pressed down on the rubber disc.

_

8\. "Mr Jones, sir! The reports all point to one solution!" The informer stood stiffly to attention, one gloved hand raised in a salute. "You must take this opportunity!!"

America sat upright in his large chair, completely focused, serious for once.

"Are you sure this is the only option?" He muttered.

"Yes sir. It is on account of the new age!"

"The new age huh…"

_

7\. The ruins of an ancient civilisation loomed above him; the skeletal structures of once huge skyscrapers silhouetted against the darkening clouds; so, so different from the low grey bunkers that the mass population now dwelled in.

Japan approached the sleeping figure sprawled out on a wire bench. He first poked him, then gently brushed the strands of brown hair from his resting face, and sighed.

In this still, unchanging corner of a changing world, not much was different from five hundred years ago, when the two countries used to sit by the ruins of temples and tombs.

Yet those old stones has long since washed away, leaving little but scars upon the land.

The sleeping nation stirred slightly, and Japan waited. Soon Greece would wake.

He whispered under his breath, to pass the time,

"The final battle is coming."

Greece opened his eyes, and replied slowly,

"I… Know… It will be over… Soon…" The tired nation shuffled, sohis head rested on Japan's lap, and the dust particles swirled around them in the forgotten city.

_

6\. Spain grasped the empty gun from the dust, and scrambled to his feet, gasping at the pain in his side. The bullets whizzed past his ears, but the bangs had long since damaged his hearing anyway. Everything was blurred at the edges.

Bang!

He jumped to the side. That was close… He watched in fear as the explosion caused a bunker to crinkle and fold in on itself: a deadly rubble bomb, as his soldiers sometimes called it.

He paid no heed, and ran onwards; their goal was the sixth section point three. He didn't know why. He didn't understand anything anymore. It was always just wake up. Fight. Kill.

He was a machine, and this mindless fighting had changed him.

He stumbled over a broken wall, but quickly righted himself, and ducked behind it instead, careful to hide himself from sight. His fingers slipped into a familiar rhythm:

Load the bullets.

Flick.

Finger on the trigger.

Fire.

He knew he had twelve shots before he needed to reload again, and he had been told to shoot carefully, due to the limited resources left in the world. But he fired them all off at once, to block out the world with the bangs.

"SPAIN!!!"

.

.

.

That voice… Spain jumped up.

"ROMANO!!"

He didn't care that he would reveal himself. He didn't care that the enemy planes had arrived, and were bombing the area. All he saw was Romano, trapped under the rubble a hundred metres down the street. He ran. Someone was screaming. Was it Romano? Or him? Fire was raining down from the sky, but he ignored it, sprinting with the last of his energy.

Twenty metres away, he collapsed onto the cracked pavement, bullets riddling his chest.

Several soldiers arrived, and he screamed as he was dragged away, because he was useless. Because he couldn't do anything. And he watched as Romano's tear stained face disappeared into the smoke.

He couldn't die. He couldn't disappear until his country did. But he didn't know how much longer that reassurance would last.

The fire would burn. And no matter how many times a nation died, they would always live to burn again.

_

5\. The papers rustled, as Norway flicked through the new reports. So far, there had been 2.5 billion deaths, a quarter of the original population, but the radiation from illegal attacks was currently killing off millions more. This was not good enough. Were the armies not enough to keep the peace?

Denmark was playing in the corner with some other files; folding little paper aeroplanes, and sending them tumbling across the room. Norway scoffed; he was so childish.

And yet, sometimes he wished he could be as oblivious as the Dane, to be able to push out the destruction and hate from his mind. He was in turmoil, and he just didn't know how to make it stop.

_

4\. "March!" 1. 2. 3. 4. They stood to attention; the newly formed armies to keep the peace.

A contact between the European countries, and a declaration.

Whether it would lead to more war, or peace, the nations didn't know, but the people had decided.

And the people's decision was final.

Thud, thud, thud. The blow of a thousand boots striking the ground echoed through the empty white corridors, and disturbed the sleeping residents. The weapons racks glistened, and bowed slightly under the weight of several thousand new machine guns. The bombs and chemicals were conveniently shelved above, so they could be easily reached.

Things had escalated quickly.

_

3\. The harsh winds blew across the muddy field, no longer green and full of life. There were bloodied corpses scattered amongst the few blackened trees, twisted and warped by the chemicals and reacurring bullets.

A slight figure scampered across the graveyard, breath catching, boots sliding on the mud. And the pools of chemicals.

And the blood.

"Germany!! Germany!!" He wept. He darted across the plain, blinded by pain, and bumped into another figure. "Germany! Germany!!! It hurts! Why does it hurt Germany??" He slid to his knees as the other man spoke.

"Because the battle has scarred your land, Italy. The new age will not vork."

The once fertile lands of Italy lay ruined before them.

"Some people choose to fight, Italy, for vhat they think is right. You just happened to be… in the way."

"But… b-but… Germany?" The stern figure lifted Italy to his feet, and hugged him tight.

"I vill help you… Feliciano. This may be just the start."

_

2\. "Will you be able to cope with the change? Mon petit Angleterre?" France laughed slightly at the befuddled look on England's face, and sipped from his wine glass. The classy lounge they sat in was decorated with bright paintings, and moving holograms. "You do know, that the new age will have it's ups and downs? We must be prepared for that…"

"Shut up you git." Said England "It's going to be bloody fine."

The disturbances in the east seemed minor compared to previous battles, and people were on low guard. The progress that was happening far outweighed the problems that came with it, and the nations were at rest.

"This eez just what you said at the start of zhe 20th century, Britain…"

_

1\. Little breezes danced and waved through the long grass, creating ripples, as if the ocean and this peaceful field were one. The dawn of the new age was bright and welcoming, and some countries were choosing to celebrate with wine and good food by the banks of the little steam. A cork was popped, and France laughed freely as it whizzed past and stung England in the eye.

A little brunet giggled, as he blew the petals off a task man's jacket, whist his brother scowled behind him. The blossom tree quivered, sending clouds of pink and white and cream fluttering onto the grass.

The 26th century was starting as promising as the ones before, and the nations had no reason to be fearful. It was just…

Something didn't seem quite right…

_

If you now read this story backwards, from numbers 1 to 10, it may make more sense to you. Then again, it may not. Feel free to read it how you wish.


End file.
